Stowing the last of her father’s bags in the boot of her car, Claire walked around to the driver’s door. As she reached to open it, her heart sank. How on earth did that happen? There was a long gouge in the paintwork down to almost bare metal, and she silently cursed the driver who must have collided with her car and not even bothered to stop. But… she traced her fingers along it, then ran her gaze over the rest of the car… wouldn’t they have taken the wing mirror if they’d driven that close? It might have been a bike, she supposed. She frowned as she realised it was more likely to have been done deliberately. Imagining the malice behind such an act, the sharp implement that must have been used, her heart missed a beat. Who would do such a thing? Why?
Drunken idiots, she supposed, reeling home from the pub. She should report it, but she couldn’t deal with it now. And alerting her dad to what had happened would only upset him.
Attempting a smile, she braced herself for what lay ahead, and pulled the door open.
‘Are we going to the shops?’ Bernard asked her as she climbed in.
Claire inhaled deeply. She couldn’t meet his gaze for fear he would read what was in her eyes: fury that her suspicions might be right. That his infidelity might have caused that final argument that had robbed her of her mother, her childhood. Robbed her mother of her life.
It might not be true. This Sophie might be some sort of stalker, getting kicks from preying on other people’s vulnerabilities. She would have to provide more evidence to convince Claire, more information about herself. There were few details on her Facebook profile. No year on her date of birth, giving no clue to her age. It was clearly a recently added account. But how would she know about his business trips? And if it was true? Then her father had a lot to answer for. Except he couldn’t, could he? He wasn’t capable of answering anything sensibly. Claire bit back her frustration.
‘Mummy, Grandad’s talking to you.’ Ella dragged her attention back to the job in hand.
Attempting to get her rioting emotions in some sort of order, Claire forced her face into a smile. ‘Sorry, miles away.’ She buckled her seat belt and checked her father’s. ‘What did you say, Dad?’
‘The shops,’ Bernard said. ‘I wondered if we might be going to the supermarket.’
Claire met his eyes. They were awash with uncertainty and she had no idea how to answer. There was no point repeating what she’d told him: that he was moving into a residential care home. He would only forget halfway there, and she would have to try to explain again once they arrived. Reinforce the fact that there were people there who would look after him, help him to dress, eat and wash, pick him up when he fell. Somehow she had to convince him everything was going to be fine, when it quite obviously wasn’t. She was abandoning him, and she had no idea whether he would ever forgive her. No idea how she would ever forgive him if the jigsaw pieces fitted together as she suspected they might.
Silently cursing Luke for not being here for his daughter, who shouldn’t be involved in any of this, she glanced in the rear-view mirror to offer Ella a reassuring smile, and then tried to focus. She’d known this day would come. It had arrived sooner than she’d planned for, but she had to get through it, get her father through it. Despite his workaholic tendencies, he’d tried to be there for her growing up, and now he needed her to do the same.
‘I thought we might stop off at the shops on the way,’ she answered carefully. ‘Is there anything you fancy?’
Her father pondered. ‘Some chocolate digestives would be nice. Or some choux buns.’ There was a glint of anticipation of a treat in his eyes as he glanced hopefully at her. ‘We could have them for tea and then watch a film together.’
Claire’s heart dropped. By teatime he wouldn’t remember the choux buns. By teatime he wouldn’t be here. Would his one abiding memory be that it was her, his daughter, who’d stolen his home away from him?
‘The Great Escape’s on, I think,’ he went on. ‘Have you seen that? It’s one of my favourites.’
‘We could watch it on your new television, Grandad,’ Ella ventured when Claire, trying to collect herself, took a second to answer.
Bernard twisted in his seat to look at her. ‘Are we getting a new one then?’ he asked, an eyebrow raised curiously.
‘You have a new TV in your room, Dad, remember? At the lovely home you’ll be staying in,’ Claire reminded him, not sure what else to say.
Examining her face, his expression wary, Bernard didn’t answer immediately. Then, ‘Just for a short while,’ he said, with an uncertain nod.
‘Yes, just for a short while,’ Claire replied emotionally, and then reached to start the engine before her courage failed her. She’d thought she’d prepared herself for this, but all she wanted to do was take him back inside; return to a time when she was tiny and her dad was her hero, not this person she no longer knew, wondered if she’d ever known. A man whose past secrets her instincts told her were about to shatter any illusions she might have had. She swallowed back a tight constriction in her throat. Suddenly, for all her preparedness, she wanted to cry.
Glancing sideways, she noted that his gaze was now fixed on the windscreen.
‘And then we’ll come home,’ he said.
She heard the fear in his voice. It was tangible. She couldn’t answer. There was no way to. Blinking away a tear, she checked her wing mirror and readied herself to pull out. Then she noticed a car approaching behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. Luke. Thank God. At least now Ella would be spared all this.
Opening her window, she attempted to compose herself as she watched Luke pull up hastily, banging his door open and scrambling out of his car. She wasn’t going to demand to know where he’d been. She didn’t want to know. She simply wanted him to be here for his daughter when he’d damn well promised to be.
‘Sorry,’ he said, his expression flustered. ‘I got delayed.’
‘Daddy!’ Ella exclaimed excitedly from the back seat, as Claire looked him over, perturbed. He had a long scratch on his cheek, running almost down to his chin.
‘What happened to your face?’ she asked him warily.
‘Nothing,’ he said with an evasive shrug. ‘An accident at work.’
‘But…’ Claire frowned, confused. ‘I thought you were still off sick with your ankle?’
‘I popped in to see Steve about the property we’re refurbing,’ Luke supplied. ‘Got in a tangle with some barbed wire on one of the perimeter fences.’
Imagining the barbed wire to be old and rusty, and aware of his tendency to ignore cuts and bruises as part of the job, Claire grew concerned. ‘Did you get a tetanus jab?’
‘Not necessary. I’m up to date.’ Shrugging again, Luke looked away, his eyes pivoting towards Ella. ‘Hey, pumpkin.’ He gave her that special smile he reserved for his daughter, leaving Claire in no doubt how much he loved her. She’d been about to launch into him, reminding him of his fatherly responsibilities, but bit down on her tongue.
‘Am I coming with you, Daddy?’ Ella was already halfway to unbuckling herself.
‘That’s the plan,’ Luke said. ‘I’ll take her to the park and then bring her home and get her some dinner, shall I?’ he asked, turning back to Claire.
Claire hesitated. Did she want him here, cooking a meal in the kitchen, as he often had in the past when she’d been working? She wasn’t sure, but part of her desperately didn’t want to come back to an empty house. ‘Thanks,’ she said, with a small smile. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be. I’ll ring you if—’
‘You’ve arrived then, finally,’ Bernard interrupted, leaning forwards to peer past her at Luke.
‘Er, yes,’ he answered uncertainly. ‘Sorry. I’m running late.’
‘You really do have to wonder why we bother to pay our water rates.’ Shaking his head, Bernard emitted a despairing sigh. ‘Well, now you’re here, I suppose I’d better let you in.’
‘Dad.’ Claire stopped him as he reached to unfasten his belt. ‘Where are you going?’
He glanced at her, puzzled. ‘To let him through to the back. They’ll need more than one man for the job, though.’ He looked Luke over again, his expression unimpressed. ‘The sewage pipe runs the length of the garden, and on through the neighbour’s. I suspect it’s them who’ve blocked it up, stuffing God only knows what down the toilet. Nappies probably. The woman has babies like shelling peas, I swear. I said to—’
‘Dad.’ Claire cut him short. ‘The neighbour’s children are all grown up now.’
Bernard’s expression was blank. ‘Are they?’
‘They’ve left home, Dad,’ she pointed out, fighting back her frustration. ‘And this is Luke.’
Bernard squinted hard at him, but was clearly none the wiser.
‘Ella’s father,’ Claire clarified, weary hopelessness washing through her. ‘He’s here to take her out for the day so I can come with you; stay with you for a while and make sure you’re all settled in.’
Confusion played across his face. Claire could almost see the cogs clunking and grinding as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. ‘Settled where, dear?’ he asked, a question mark in his eyes.
Claire braced herself. ‘Your new home, Dad, the place you’re going to be living in,’ she said, her stomach tightening as she studied his face, trying to gauge his reaction. ‘Do you remember? The one with the lovely views over the grounds? We’re going there now.’
‘Ah.’ Bernard nodded, as if he actually might remember. ‘Well, we’d better not dawdle then.’ He righted himself in his seat. ‘I don’t want to keep Ruth waiting too long. She frets, you know, when she doesn’t know where I am. Have you met her, my wife?’
Claire felt her heart freeze. She’d told herself she didn’t want Luke anywhere near her after what he’d done, but now, aware that her father clearly didn’t remember that she was her mother’s daughter, his daughter, she didn’t want him to move an inch away from her. The pressure of his fingertips as he gently squeezed her shoulder was the only thing keeping her from breaking down there and then.